


A Series of Unfortunate Drabbles

by aspiringaspie



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drabble Collection, Explicit Language, Eye Trauma, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, and yes one of them is kit and olaf doing the do, some of these drabbles tie in with the fortunate!au with SweetBunLove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringaspie/pseuds/aspiringaspie
Summary: Drabbles written for the ASOUE characters, based off of prompts from my tumblr (@al-funk-oot). Some tie in with the fortunate!au, which can be found on SweetBunLove's AO3 as well as my own. Expect a lot of fluff, some smut, angst, and comfort.After all, nothing can be completely happy when it comes to these characters. That's not how the story goes...





	1. i. Olaf + Baudelaires - Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @carmineox asked: “It’s okay, I’ll help you. Just don’t try to move.” Olaf? ;))
> 
> (This drabble works in junction with the fortunate!au, just in case anyone is confused!)

God damn these fucking kids. He leaves them alone for one minute and they get themselves into trouble. One thing that Olaf truly can’t pride himself on is his ability to function as a parent. He’d abandoned the thought of having kids for years, deeming children insufferable, and that, in his mental state, he’d never make a suitable father.

The moment that the Baudelaires were thrust upon the front step of his house, however, everything changed. Now he watches over them as best he can, stuffing the three siblings in the backseat of his car with his acting troupe. Being on the run from the authorities certainly doesn’t making their living conditions easy or comfortable, but it’s what they must do to survive.

Now it’s not to say he doesn’t trust the children, of course he does — they’re brilliant for their age. When the sun sets and they must pull over, everyone has their own part: the troupe helps gather wood to start a fire, Violet builds traps for animals, Olaf assists in catching them, Sunny prepares dinner, and Klaus is in charge of finding (non-poisonous) berries and other fruits. They have never let him down, and on multiple occasions he’s even been impressed by them.

As the middle Baudelaire sibling has a relatively safe task, one might imagine the shock on Olaf’s face when Klaus limps back to the group, clutching his arm, which appears to be bleeding.

“Was an animal,” is all the boy is able to grit out as he sits down, his older sister hurrying to the car for medical supplies. In a flash, Olaf is at Klaus’s side, rolling up the boy’s sleeve and grimacing at the claw and bite marks. Blood flows profusely from the gashes, and it seems as if his leg isn’t in the best shape either… “Too dark, couldn’t see…”

“ _Foolish boy_ ,” Olaf chastises, grabbing the first-aid kit from Violet. He might not be a doctor, but in his early years, more often than not did he have to assist injured V.F.D. members on a mission. He wastes no time in tending to the boy’s wounds, heart aching as Klaus bites his bottom lip, stifling cries of pain.

 **“It’s okay,”**  he assures the shaking boy, using a soothing tone that seems foreign and unnatural to him at first. Olaf never really considered himself the comforting type. But now, with Klaus…he  _needs_  comfort. Taking the injured Baudelaire’s other hand and squeezing it, he tells him,  **“I’ll help you. Just don’t try to move.”**


	2. ii. Kit/Olaf - Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @madlovve asked: “Who hurt you? WHAT hurt you?” for Olaf and Kit
> 
> (Pre-ASOUE, post-opera. Can be seen as a part of the au, or it's own thing.)

“Fucking hell, O,” Kit mumbles to herself as she approaches her ~~ex~~ lover, currently curled up on the sofa in pain.

Olaf’s clothing appears as if it’s been ripped to shreds, cuts littered throughout his body, his his one hand covering a particularly nasty wound on his side. His one eye is shut tight and blackened, and due to the blood trickling from his mouth, there’s no doubt that the man must have lost a few teeth.

“A-Ah,” he grunts as he sets his good eye on her, attempting to sit up before hissing in pain and lying back down. Ah yes, he’s definitely broken a rib or two. “Knew I c-could…always rely on you, Snicket…”

“No shit,” she mumbles, kneeling at his side, trying not to feel any pity towards him after everything that’s happened between them. Yet, she’s the one at his side right now, acting on her own volition as his healer.

_When will she stop loving him?_

“How… **who hurt you?”**  she asks, starting to unbutton what’s left of his shirt. Normally, Olaf would comment with a sly smirk in this moment, regarding the fact that she’s removing his clothing just like old times, but the pain he’s currently enduring overrides any clear thought.

As Kit looks over the damage on his body, she finds her jaw dropping, the shock rendering her momentarily speechless. When she can speak again, she murmurs, hand gently on his shoulder, **“** _ **What**_ **hurt you?”**

Olaf merely chuckles, before it trails off into a cough. Clearing his throat, he slowly, painfully turns his head towards kit, looking beautiful as ever. He never deserved her. He doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, yet here he is.

_When will he stop loving her?_

“P-Protect you,” he gasps, taking the hand not pressed against the gash on his side and grasping her own. Placing a bloody kiss to the inside of her palm, he explains, “They were g-going to kill you, Kit…I couldn’t let them…”

_They are still so in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (so......expect a l o t of these drabbles to be kitlaf, because i'm absolute trash? whoopsie.)


	3. iii. Olaf + Violet - Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can I get a "I would be dead if you hadn't found me." for Violet? And then as a follow up a "This will only hurt a lot." when Olaf finds who did it to her? :) keep up the great work!
> 
> (Another drabble within the fortunate!au. Not Violaf, just a father/daughter relationship. Also: implied torture at the end, but nothing graphic at all.)

Violet winces as she feels the first prick of a needle into her skin, biting the inside of her cheek. She knows that this is necessary, that the cut that had been made on her arm requires stitches — but that doesn’t mean she’s immune to pain.

(Thankfully, she’s built up a tolerance to it over time, unlike her brother, who complains if he gets a mere paper cut.)

An uneasy silence hangs in the air between the eldest Baudelaire and her guardian, who has not spoken a word since he'd found her sprawled out on the ground, barely conscious. His eyes are glued to her wound, brow furrowed in concentration. Eventually, violet is the one to break the tension, desperate to distract herself from the pain.

“O-Olaf,” she winces as he tugs gently on the thread, not showing any sign of acknowledgement towards the girl. “Thank you…”

It’s strange for Olaf to hear those words directed towards  _him_ , and though he continues his work, he asks, “For what?”

“Helping me,” she states, watching as he finishes up on her arm, being as gentle as possible. Tears threatening to flow, Violet gulps hard.  **“I-If you hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.”**

Those words strike a chord within Olaf, the overwhelming urge to protect her surging through him. The man stands and pulls Violet into a loving embrace, hand pressed to her back. So starved from love and affection, Violet buries her face into his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as she quietly sobs.

“I’ll  _never_  let that happen to you,” Olaf assures her, trying not to let his own emotions get the better of him, because the thought of losing another person in his life, another loved one, is _far_ too unbearable. He shushes the girl as her body trembles, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “You’re safe with me, Violet… **nothing** will happen to you, or your siblings, as long as you are in my care.”

That night, once violet’s eyes have dried and she’s fallen asleep, Olaf jumps into his car and slams on the gas, bag full of various weapons in the backseat. Well aware of who the person is who attacked  _ ~~his daughter~~_  the poor girl, he’s going to make sure that they regret ever even thinking of laying a hand on her.

Needless to say, once he has them tied to a chair in their basement, Olaf cannot help but revel in their pitiful cries for help, even before he’s laid a hand on them.

 _Thank god_  V.F.D. members were trained in the many forms of  ** _torture_**.

“Now, let’s begin,” Olaf starts, picking up a power drill, turning it on for a moment, just to watch his victim squirm. A smirk forms on his lips.  **“This will only hurt…a lot.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (who hurt violet? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ they're probably dead now lol.)


	4. iv. Olaf + Baudelaires - Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @ivandra-winters asked: ‘Settle down, you’re safe now,’ with Olaf and the kids after VFD tries to take them?
> 
> (Fortunate!au once again. None of the kids are hurt, he just helps calm them down.)

Olaf takes a deep breath as he pulls the car onto the side of the road, not finding it in his heart to care about where exactly he is. In fact, it only makes the situation better by the fact that he cannot recognize his surroundings. At this point, being in the middle of nowhere is better than being within V.F.D.’s clutches.

He releases his vice-like grip on the steering wheel, eyes darting to the rear view mirror. The only ones still awake are the Baudelaire children, eyes still wide, still visibly shaken. Even Sunny seems to share her older siblings’ fear, clutching onto Fernald’s coat.

Their last encounter with V.F.D. had been _far_ too close for comfort…

“Baudelaires.” Olaf turns around in his seat, surveying the children, their faces pale. “Were any of you _hurt_?”

The trio shake their heads. Good, good. They’re okay. _They’re okay_. He can’t blame them for their fear — they’d been so close to  _ **death**_.

“It’s alright, children,” he assures them, holding out one of his bony hands for them to take. Violet and Klaus grasp it immediately, while Sunny’s tiny fingers reach out and just graze his knuckles.

_I’ll protect you all if it’s the last thing I do._

**“Settle down.”**  he smiles warmly, thankfully managing to get a genuine smirk out of the Baudelaires as well.  **“You’re safe now.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry for it being so short hhhhh)


	5. v. Olaf + Esmé - Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @slither-dork asked: “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.” For Olaf and anyone that wants to hurt him
> 
> (Implied torture. Drabble ends before anything becomes too intense. Takes place in the fortunate!au, during Hostile Hospital.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (fair warning: esmé is Not Nice in this fic.. so oof.)

Olaf tugs at the restraints holding him down, gritting his teeth as he pulls and pulls with all of his might. Whoever had strapped him in while he was unconscious knew what they were doing, because unless he can cut through these straps, there’s no chance of escape — not yet.

The sound of the door opening alerts his attention, and his heart lodges in his throat as he sees his captor: Esmé. Of  _course_.

“Darling,” she hums, closing and locking the door behind her, pushing the tray of frighteningly large surgical tools close to Olaf. “You’re awake.”

He swallows audibly, refusing to show any fear in front of her. “Esmé. I should’ve known.”

She doesn’t make a comment at that, instead deciding to pick up one of the scalpels on the tray. As Olaf’s doctor disguise has been discarded, he’s left in his regular pants and button-up shirt, the latter of which Esmé starts to undo…

_With the blade of the scalpel._

“I really don’t know why I didn’t do this the moment i saw you,” she sighs, cutting off each button, one by one. Olaf bites the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to talk back at her, to _spit_ in her face. “I don’t understand how you could even associate with the children of the woman who not only murdered your parents, but  _stole my sugar bowl_.”

“ _Like the damn sugar bowl would be safer with you_.”

He _really_ should have better self-control. Once the words leave his mouth, Esmé slices Olaf across the cheek, causing him to cry out in a mix of pain and shock.

“It. Is. _M_ _ine_ ,” she growls, throwing the scalpel with the other implements. “And those children won’t be the only ones to pay for it, but **you** will too, dear. You  ** _ruined_**  my life. So I’ll ruin _yours_.”

Esmé then picks up what appears to be a sickle, gleaming from the fluorescent lights overhead. Olaf’s eye twitches, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Esmé,” he pleads, and  _fuck_ , he’s resorted to pleading now, “you don’t have to do this.”

“ _S_ _hhh_ …” she takes out a large piece of tape and places it over his mouth, grinning as she hears his muffled cries for help. “That’s better, love.”

She lifts the blade to his chin, forcing him to look up at her.  **“I’ve been wanting to do this for a _long time_.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olaf does not get outta this unscathed lmao)


	6. vi. Olaf - “Twisted”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @ivandra-winters asked: ‘This isn’t what I wanted,’ with Olaf in a scene like the song Twisted from Starkid’s Twisted, please?
> 
> (Suuuuuuper angsty as fuCK.. to put it into context: this is from the fortunate!au, and takes place during the Vile Village. Olaf is sentenced to death, and while both the Baudelaires and the Quagmires have fled - or so he thinks - he is alone. This drabble deals with his emotions as everything in his life hits him hard.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (link to the funny/beautiful song from twisted — the part in the fic starts at 5:58: https://youtu.be/zKWt-4FBjHY)

_What remains of a man, when that man is dead and gone?_

_Only memories and stories of his deeds will linger on_

_But if a man’s accomplishments aren’t in the tale they tell_

_Are the deeds that go unheralded his legacy as well?_

Olaf paces back and forth within his prison cell, hands together, fidgeting. He must have no less than twelve hours left. Twelve hours that seem to tick by at an agonizingly slow pace. Every time he hears it on the clock, hanging just outside of his cell, he hears his heart  **thump**  along with it.

(By tomorrow, his heart shall beat ~~no more~~.)

_If a war breaks out tomorrow, we’ll all have hell to pay_

_Why protect my reputation?_

_I’m a dead man either way_

“ _Fuckers!_ ” the man cries suddenly, throwing himself at the metal bars, fingers tightening around them as he shakes the door violently. “Let me out! I’m innocent, I’m not a murderer! I-I’m  _not_ —…”

His voice cracks, breaking off. Not a murderer? **H** **a**. That’s a lie. How many people had he taken out when he was a member of V.F.D.? How can that even compare to the small number of people that the public assumes he’s killed now?

_How will they tell my story?_

_How will they tell my tale?_

_Will anybody even care?_

Olaf sinks to his knees, voice hoarse from screaming over the past few hours. leaning his forehead against the bars, he thinks about the Baudelaires, the Quagmires, where they could possibly be now. It had been his job to keep them safe, he promised them that. But how could he even begin to convince those children to trust him? After all, he’s a  **horrible**  man, isn’t he?

_The question then is whether ‘tis nobler in the mind_

_To be well liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?_

Suddenly, waves upon waves of emotions wash over him, and he starts to cry. _F_ _uck_. Why is he crying? How could he be this cowardly? V.F.D. agents were told to face dangerous situations head-on, to not fear death. Yet here he is now, crumpled on the floor of his prison cell, sobbing like a child. He’s a pathetic failure.

A failure for letting so many down: the Baudelaires, the Quagmires, his troupe, his mentors, his parents, his  **friends** —

 ** ~~ _Kit_~~**.

_I’ll never be a hero!_

_All the citizens adore_

_But if i hide to save my life_

_What has my life been for?_

_What has my life been for?_

**“This isn’t w-what I wanted!”**  he sobs, pulling his knees to his chest.

A long time ago, Olaf thought he would live happily ever after. He foolishly thought that he would marry the girl of his dreams, have children, and save the world as a member of a secret organization. Funny how quickly everything changes. How one night can cause him to fall down a  _slippery slope_ ; the fire spreading, destroying  **everything**  and  **everyone**  he once loved…

Noble people don’t exist. As far as the entire world is concerned, he is  _ **no exception**_.

_The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve_

_I’ll give them all the unsung anti-hero they deserve_

_I’ve nothing left to lose_

_So the only path to choose is twisted_

Hours pass until Olaf has lost the the energy to spill any more tears. He doubts he’ll sleep tonight. He’ll merely curl up on one of the beds in the dingy room, staring blankly ahead.

 **He’s going to die**. not surrounded by people who care about him, but by those who believe him to be the vile man that V.F.D. says he is.

But at this point, he’s used to it. It doesn’t matter what they say.

_And then twist my words, let the people scorn me_

_Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?_

_Let them bury the side of the story they’ll never learn_

The kids are  ** _safe_**. that’s all that he cares about. He’s helped them the best he can, and he can only hope that somewhere along the line, they will find a home. A safe home. One where they don’t have to jump from place to place, where fire is meant only to cook food, to weld together pieces of metal, or to read a book in the dark.

And Olaf? Let the fire  **consume him** ,  ** _destroy him_**. If he must  _burn_  to prevent any more suffering of others, then so be it. The flames he ignited shall be his downfall.

_Let the truth be twisted_

_Let my life be twisted_

_I’ll be twisted_

_**It’s my turn…** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (o.....yikes?)


	7. vii. Kit/Olaf - Fluff/Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @madlovve asked: “Can we just pretend like we’re normal for once?” for Kitlaf please and thank you! 💕
> 
> (Pre-ASOUE, post-opera. The nickname Olaf uses for Kit is courtesy of Ravenhoot on AO3. Some sensuality, but nothing explicit.)

Kit knows she shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing in what she considers a poor excuse for a home, pacing in the living room, the floorboards creaking beneath her. How long has this gone on for now? How many years? They’re on two different sides, ever since the  **opera**  they—

“ _Kit_.”

The familiar voice causes Kit’s body to visibly jerk, as she’s pulled out of her thoughts and back into reality. She lifts her gaze to stare into the eyes of a familiar, yet so very different face.

“ **Olaf** ,” she mutters, and she wishes she’d put venom in that word, at the mention of his name. But she  _can’t_. For some reason, as foolish as it is, she can’t. She clears her throat, mouth suddenly dry. “Did you hear about Esmé? The marriage?”

Olaf scoffs at Kit’s pitiful attempt to break the tension, folding his arms over his chest and staring down at her. For a moment, he imagines that they’re teenagers again, crushing on each other, unable to speak to each other for longer than thirty seconds without blushing and parting ways.

Not a day goes by that he doesn’t miss that time in his life, when both of them were so  **naïve** …

“That’s not  _really_  why you’re here, Snicket,” he states, taking two steps towards her. “We  _both_  know why you’re here.”

It’s true. kit can’t deny it. She wants him, misses him — and she  _hates_  herself for it. Her expression conveys everything.

The  **pain**.

The  _love_.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she sighs, somewhat breathless as suddenly the space between them grows smaller, Olaf practically towering over her. As she tilts her head back to look at him, her cheeks heat up —  ~~ _she’s blushing like a fucking schoolgirl_~~  — and she tries her damndest to be defiant. “ _Y_ _ou’re a terrible man_.”

“Am I, now?” he purrs, and suddenly his hands are on her hips, hot breath on her skin. His pulse picks up at he stares at her, flushed and  **perfect** , and suddenly, nothing else matters. “You’re rather wicked yourself,  _little fox_.”

The pet name for her actually makes her gasp. at this point, they’ve both had enough, and Olaf is the one to finally draw her close, sealing their lips in a passionate kiss. He tastes like cigarettes and she tastes like strawberries — a combination that truly should  _never_ be made. But as fate would have it for Kit and Olaf, there really is no such thing as  _never_.

With Kit straddling Olaf on the couch, both of them half-dressed and sloppily kissing one another, everything is suddenly  **right**  in the world. A giggle passes through the middle Snicket’s lips as she nips at her  _ ~~ex~~_  lover’s ear, and Olaf swears that it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

 **“Can we just pretend like we’re normal for once?”**  she asks, eyes half-lidded as she stares down at him. “Like we’re an old married couple, and no one’s trying to keep us apart?”

Olaf chuckles, hands resting on her hips. “Of course. Anything for my  _darling wife_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (they are....in love, byeeee)


	8. viii. Kit/Olaf - Sensual (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @madlovve asked: Scold me if I have sent you too many requests but you're great and I can't help it. “That was kind of hot.” For Kitlaf.
> 
> (Young and pure Kitlaf. Pure sin. Not super explicit, but not suitable for children.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which kit doms olaf, sorry i don't make the rules ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The first time she says it, it’s completely innocent.

The pair had just successfully completed a mission, their target taken out courtesy of Olaf and a poison dart. The shock that he’d managed to perfectly hit the man in the neck caused Kit to burst into laughter, playfully punching Olaf in the shoulder.

“ _Good boy_ , you got him!”

She hadn’t noticed just how  _red_  his cheeks had turned at the pet name, nor how he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a whine.

“You know,” he'd said as he drove them home, nervously gripping the steering wheel.  **“That…was kind of hot.”**

Kit had furrowed her eyebrows, pursing her lips. “What was?”

“W-When, uh…” _God_ , It was so embarrassing. Even the memory set his whole body aflame. “When you called me a ‘good boy.’”

Out of his peripheral vision, he had seen her eyes widen in realization. “ _Oh_.”

They didn’t bring it up again.

That is, until the  _second_  time it happens, and she takes full advantage of the situation. The couple are embracing in the dressing room of a local theater, Kit praising him for his acting abilities ( ~~all lies, but whatever will make him happy~~ ). She pulls back to peck him on the tip of his nose, a warm smile forming on Olaf’s lips

“You really killed it out there tonight, baby. _Good boy_.”

The  _whimper_  that escapes him is embarrassingly loud. Once again, his face heats up, his blood running south. Observing his reactions, Kit grins wickedly, and suddenly her boyfriend’s knees feel weak. The Snicket glances around to make sure that no one else is in the room, before starting to run her hands up and down his sides, caressing his thighs.

“You like when I call you that?” she purrs, her hand not-so-discreetly brushing against his crotch. Olaf inhales sharply at her touch,  **definitely not**  growing harder at her sudden dominant tone. “You like when I call you a  _good boy_?”

A shudder runs through Olaf, moaning softly as her hand cups around him. Holy  _fuck_ , he loves this side of her. Unable to form any coherent words at the moment, he merely nods, licking his dry lips.

“ _Say it_ ,” she commands, palming at him, his member twitching in his pants. “Tell me you like it.”

“I-I  **love**  it,” he gasps, involuntarily bucking into her. “After that m-mission…I kept thinking about you o-on top of me, and-and—“

She silences him with a forceful kiss, pushing him back against the wall, grinding against him. Olaf practically melts against her, his hands roaming all around as he seeks the friction he so desperately craves. It seems like an eternity before kit breaks for air and nips at his ear, causing Olaf’s eyes to roll back into his head.

“You talk too much,” she sighs, her shaking hands unbuttoning her jeans. “Why don’t you be a  **good boy**  and lie down? _Put that mouth to good use_.”

Olaf doesn’t think twice as he squeaks out a “ **yes, ma’am** ” and lies down on the floor, watching as Kit undresses.

That night, she would ride his face until he’d made her come twice, and when she finally rode his throbbing cock, she wouldn’t stop calling him her “good boy,” making him moan like an absolute  _ **whore**_ and thrust up into her. No doubt that she would use this pet name to her advantage in the future.

_God, how he loves her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	9. ix. Kit/Olaf - Angst, Fluff, Sensual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @sweet-bun-love asked: hey hey remember when i said i was gonna send in a drabble owo? well now i have time so fluff us up in the Good!Au! 31+65 for any pair you wa- kitlaf
> 
> 31\. ”Can I kiss you?”
> 
> 65\. “When you smile, I fall apart.”
> 
> (Takes place during the Ersatz Elevator within the fortunate!au. Implied sexual content at the end.)

Olaf  _never_  expected to see her. Never again. not after the night that the Baudelaire mansion burnt down, when he’d been framed for  **murder** …

Not here in Esmé’s penthouse apartment, of all places. By now, Olaf’s long-since discarded his disguise, wearing one of the silk robes he’d found in the bathroom. To say he’s surprised to find Kit Snicket, sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, is an  _understatement_. Seeing her makes Olaf feel as if he’s had the  _wind_  knocked out of him.

“ _Kit_?” he gasps. She doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t acknowledge his voice, and it hurts him more than he should admit. Seconds tick by agonizingly, Olaf holding his breath.

“Hi, O,” she finally replies, quiet enough almost to be a whisper. It pains him that she hadn’t used his real name, that they’ve become so torn apart by this cruel world. Even as he sits down next to her, she doesn’t move, her eyes fixed on the floor as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

“What-What are you doing here?” Olaf asks, wanting to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. To tell her that he’s innocent, that she shouldn’t be on their side, that he still  _ ~~loves~~_  her, and _wishes they could be kids again_ —

“It’s not safe here.” her words take him by surprise, and before he can ask why, she turns towards him, a sad smile on her face, tears in her eyes. “I-I’m risking my  _life_  being here.”

And she is. every time that she visits Olaf, she runs the chance of V.F.D. finding out. But back then, she couldn’t control herself. that’s what she’d told herself then, anyway. Now? Now she knows that nearly every member of the organization wants _~~her love~~_  him dead, and it hurts. It hurts for her to see all the pain they’re causing him, it hurts that her older brother is too blind to see past their  **lies**!

_**It hurts.** _

The tears stream down her cheeks without her realizing it, her resolve breaking. She  **hates**  how vulnerable she is. How she’s  _fucking crying_ in front of him. It’s all too much, she’s tried not to let it all bother her, she’s tried, oh she’s  _tried_  so hard,  _tried not to **love**  him_…

Then his hands are cupping her cheeks, maneuvering her head so that their eyes  _lock_. His thumbs wipe away any stray tears, and it’s comforting, loving,  ** _warm_**. The raging flames he’d once been, ones that burned her if she were too close to them, have become a  _comforting_  fire, one to huddle close to on a cold winter’s night.

“Shhh…” Olaf cannot stand to see such a strong woman cry. _His_ strong woman. Not wanting to push her into something she’ll regret, he asks,  **“Can I _kiss_  you?”**

She doesn’t trust herself to speak, and answers with a nod. The moment their lips touch, it feels like  _home_. All of the other times they had met in private for a quick  **fuck** , their make out sessions were hot and passionate, ones that left both of them covered in bruises. This kiss is nothing like those times.

This kiss is full of  _love_ , a wordless apology for every way in which they’ve hurt each other, a  _promise_  to always be there for each other the best that they can. This kiss is  _ **everything**_.

When they pull apart, they’ve shifted positions, with kit laying down on the mattress, Olaf above her. they take a moment to recover from what had just happened, and Olaf notices that kit isn’t crying anymore — she’s smiling. a  _genuine_  smile. Olaf can tell that it’s real, he’s seen her fake happiness numerous times in the past.

“Kit…my  _darling_ ,  _beautiful_  Kit,” he hums, kissing the tip of her nose, watching her face flush a gorgeous red color. “Your smile has the power to light a  _thousand suns._   **W** **hen you smile, I fall apart.”**

Their mouths reconnect, and in a matter of  _minutes_ , their clothes are on the floor and they’re moaning, gasping for breath, whispering sweet nothings to each other under the moonlight.

Little did both know, this night would ignite a  **fire**  within Kit Snicket. one that would grow within her for the months to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	10. x. Kit/Olaf - Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @slither-dork asked: “Would you just hold still?” for Olaf and Kit?
> 
> (Pre-ASOUE, pure Kitlaf!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, using Ravenhoot's nickname for kit because?????? it's perfect

“ _Ow!_ ” Olaf hisses as his Kit starts to clean the gash on his arm, his hand clenching into fits as he grits his teeth through the pain. And painful it is. Though he’s known for his lack of impulse control, he hadn’t expected to come out of this assignment as badly injured as he is.

Another thing Olaf is known for? Being a complete  _drama queen_ when it comes to pain. Regardless of how intense, the moment the ginger hurt himself he would never stop complaining about it.

( _Kit remembers when she had been sitting with him in the library at Prufrock Prep, listening to him rehearse his lines for the current play he’d participated in, when he gave himself a paper cut at the turn of a page. That was the first time she’d ever seen him cry._ )

“O,” she grumbles, pulling out the gauze for his wound and starting to wrap it up. He groans, squirming around, and it only frustrates her further.  **“Would you just hold still?!”**

Giving a dramatic roll of his eyes, Olaf complies, forcing himself to remain as rigid as possible, watching her small, soft hands get to work. Though he should really be just as annoyed with her as she is with him, he can’t help but find Kit’s expression to be adorable. How can he be intimidated by her, when she’s just so  _tiny?_

“Nice job, K.” He watches as she finishes up, examining his arm for a moment before slipping it back into the sleeve of his shirt. “Wouldn’t be the first time you  _wrapped up something long_ , huh?”

“Ha,  _ha_.” Kit just rolls her eyes and stands, trying to conceal the redness forming in her cheeks. Pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face, she gestures towards the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

Her boyfriend stands, straightening himself out. Before he leaves, however, he bends down and presses his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, his thumb running along a nasty bruise on her forehead. “ _Are you alright?_ ”

She nods, waving her hand dismissively. He always worries too much about her. He’s the one who should watch out for himself, he almost gets himself killed nearly every day. Which is honestly why her brothers insisted that it was a  **bad idea**  to date him…

_Playing with matches, a girl could get ~~burned~~._

“Don’t worry about me, babe,” Kit insists, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine.”

Olaf quirks up one of his eyebrows, suspicious, but doesn’t press on. Standing upright, he takes Kit’s hand in his own. “If you say so,  _little fox._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more fire metaphors? yeah, what did you expect. sportaflop?


	11. xi. Kit/Olaf - “Made of Stone”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @ivandra-winters asked: Can you please write a post-opera Kitlaf drabble based on the song ‘Made of Stone’ from The Hunchback of Notre Dame? You’re writing’s amazing!
> 
> (Post-opera Kitlaf angst. Buckle up, boyos.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (link to the song: https://youtu.be/8JZvLjjsYnU)

_What do you know of me?_

_What do you know of all the things I feel?_

_You’re only made of stone_

_Who is it that you see?_

_Instead of seeing what I am for real_

_This twisted flesh and bone?_

Fuck. Fuck fuck  _fuck fuck fuck!_  Olaf runs his hands through his hair over and over, pacing up and down the halls of V.F.D.’s secret passages. He can’t breathe, he can’t  _fucking breathe_ , and he can’t see straight because god damn it he’s  _sobbing_. Tears flow freely down his cheeks and he  **can’t stop them** , can’t stop his heart from seizing up in absolute anguish.

His parents are  _dead_ , and not only is it Beatrice’s fault, but  **Kit’s**  as well. The love of his life, his  _fiancé_ , aided in the  **murder**  of his parents.

“God  _fucking damn it!_ ” he cries, kicking the wall and falling to his knees, feeling the darkness surrounding him consume him. His arms wrap around his chest as several conflicting emotions surge through him: sorrow, grief, pain… _ **rage**_.

And then he hears _her_ voice.  _Kit_.

“Olaf?  _Olaf!_ ”

_With every new excuse you try out_

_You only make me want to cry out:_

_“Would that I were made of stone like you"_

_You give such good advice_

_So why has not one single word you’ve said been any help at all?_

There’s no use running away now. She sees him, huddled into a ball against the wall, and he knows he needs to face this. He needs to face her. It hurts for him to see her after weeks of avoiding anyone, and now that he knows the truth, he isn’t sure what do to, what to tell the  _one he loves more than anything_.

“Olaf.” He can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s worried, and  _god_  she’s so kind, so gentle, too good for him, that he wonders how she could ever  **betray**  him?

Olaf doesn’t acknowledge Kit, fixing his gaze on the ground beneath him. Even as she kneels down beside him, he refuses to lift his head. She reaches out a hand to caress his face. “Olaf, my  _love_ , we’ve been searching for you for weeks. What are you doing down here—“

“ _Don’t call me that_!” he snaps, pushing her hand away. Instantly, her face pales, her jaw dropping. He doesn’t give her a chance to say anything else, however, his face turning red with pure, unbridled anger. “You know what you did. You know you’re just as responsible, so  _stop acting so **fucking innocent!**_ ”

_And you who sound so nice_

_The more your dreams and fancies fill my head_

_The further that I fall_

_Shut my brain down!_

_If I were senseless, I’d prefer it_

_Another gargoyle in this turret_

_Spitting rain down to the stones below_

Kit blinks rapidly, speechless at her lover’s sudden outburst. What hurts is that  _he’s right_. She was the one who delivered the darts to Beatrice. But how could she have known that his  _parents_  were the targets?

“Olaf,  _listen_ —“

“ **No!** ” Olaf presses his hand against the brick wall and pushes himself up to stand, turning his back to her. Turning his back on  _everything_. “I’m  _done_  listening to you. Done listening to your  **lies** about everything. About how V.F.D. fights for the greater good, how the world is a wonderful place! You know what I’ve realized, Kit? There are  _no_  noble people in this world!  _Not even you!_ ”

Olaf spins around at that, pointing an accusing finger at her, and he can see the puffy redness of her eyes, the tears running down her face.

_I’ve wasted my faith believing in saints of plaster_

_But the only one worth believing in was my master_

_He’s the one who never lied_

_He told me it was cruel outside_

Kit shakes her head. No. It can’t end like this. It just  _can’t!_

“O-Olaf,  _please_ ,” she begs, swallowing hard, approaching him slowly. “ _You don’t have to do this._ ”

“I don’t have to listen to you!” he growls, gritting his teeth, wiping at his face because fuck, he’s crying again. He’s crying because he loves her. He loves her  _so much_ that it fucking  **hurts**. “ _Fuck_ , Kit…I loved you. I  _loved_  you. How could you _do this?!_ ”

Kit loves him too, more than words. To hear him say these things, to use “ _loved_ ” in the past tense, as if he doesn’t love her anymore, she isn’t sure how to cope. It  **tears**  at her heart, sends her mind spinning.

“Please…” she whimpers. “I c-can’t  _lose you_ , not like this…”

_He told me how I had to hide_

_His words were cold as stone_

_But they were true_

_Not like you_

_Take all the dreams you’ve sown_

_Take all your lies_

_And leave me alone!_

Oh, she could’ve said  _anything_  but that. Olaf nearly runs into her arms, holds her close to his chest, kisses her all over and forgives her…but he  _stands his ground_. The betrayal from Beatrice, one of his closest friends, had been enough. But by his  _fiancé_?

No.  ** _Ex-fiancé._**

“W-We’re  _done_ ,” Olaf spits, looking away from her, not wanting to look at her, to see how hurt it is, because he knows it’ll only  _worsen his pain_. “Get out.”

“ _Olaf!_ ” Kit cries, her body shaking with her sobs, unable to believe this, that it’s all over. “Olaf  _please, please no_ —“

“ _ **GET OUT!**_ ”

The scream comes as a shock to both of them. Kit has never seen Olaf so full of hate as he scowls at her and points for her to leave — and the hate is completely directed towards her. Heartbroken, Kit turns and leaves without another word, leaving Olaf alone to mourn, his own thoughts acting as his only company.

Unbeknownst to him are two figures standing in the shadows,  _watching_  him, observing him. He will never foresee that these strangers are the ones who will set him on the wrong path, sending him down a slippery slope fueled by his feelings of  **betrayal and hatred**.

Truly  **no one**  can save him now.

_And now I’m on my own_

_Never again to wonder what’s “out there”_

_Let it remain unknown_

_And my one human eye will evermore be dry_

_Until the day I die_

_As if I were made of stone!_


	12. xii. Olaf + The Baudelaires — Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: “I know it hurts” and “Please stay with me”, Olaf and the Baudelaires or Fernald, post-THH?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: this takes place after the hostile hospital installment for the fortunate au. for context, check out the au on my acc or on SweetBunLove’s!
> 
> (TW: EYE TRAUMA, MENTIONS OF TORTURE, BLOOD/INJURIES)

Pain. Pain. Pain. _**Pain.**_

That’s all Olaf can focus on as he’s carefully laid across the laps of the Baudelaires and Fernald. But he doesn’t know it’s them, and he hardly cares. Everything fucking hurts, his head pounds so badly he feels as if he’s going to vomit, every nerve in his body aflame, his left eye (rather the hole in which he eye one was) burning. He’s probably sobbing, can feel the tears streaming down his cheek from his remaining eye, but with all the blood leaking profusely from the open socket he really can’t tell.

Just have him go back to sleep. Just kill him. Anything to make the torture stop!

_You never had eyes for me, Olaf. So I’ll take one of them for **myself**._

Olaf curls into the chest of someone — he isn’t even sure where he is — as he feels movement beneath him. His stomach **lurches** , and if he were more aware of his environment, he would know that he’s in the backseat of a car, and Jacques is driving him to safety. But he’s terrified, clinging to the shirt of the person that he cannot see, begging them to make it al stop, for them to please let him see _his_ children.

“Olaf,” he hears vaguely in the distance, not registering the voice completely ~~_Violet_~~. Then there’s a piece of cloth, a tissue, _something_ being pressed against the place where his eye had been, and he jerks, whimpering as the agony intensifies.

He hears someone shush him, a hand running through his hair as he trembles. He _wishes_ that it would offer him comfort, but at the touch his whole body caves in on itself, shrinking away. No no, don’t touch him, **please** —

_Aw, did you get this tattoo for your precious Kit? I must say, I’d prefer it if I made a few…adjustments._

**“I know it hurts,”** a voice _~~Klaus~~_ breaks through his thoughts, and his tremors stop for a moment, his breathing still uneven and erratic because he feels like _he’s going to pass out it hurts it hurts it hurts…_

A hand rests against his leg then, and Olaf only spasms at the touch for a **moment** , before relaxing into it. No one’s going to hurt him right now. Even as he’s defenseless, the wound in his chest bleeding, his eye _gone_ , no one’s going to take advantage of him. _He’s…safe._

 **“Please stay with me,”** the feminine voice of a stranger ~~_Olivia_~~ begs, and he will, he knows he will, he’s just so _weak_. He can’t help himself as his grip loosens on Violet’s dress, consciousness slipping in and out as he’s overwhelmed by **pain**.

The last thing he hears before passing out is the sound of Sunny Baudelaire’s _screams_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))


	13. xiii. Olaf + Klaus - Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yui-kuromori: I know you are taking requests with your "starting lines" but could you consider doing something like olaf and/or the troup being lowkey scared of klaus while he inocently (or not, its up to you) talks about something very dangerous/disturbing He knows from his books?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place during the fortunate!au, most likely when the baudelaires are living with olaf during the first book.

Olaf taps his foot, grinning as he surveys the troupe gathered around him. The group of them were currently in a heated debate about which one of them would be the better assassin, and possibly even better yet: which one would be able to take individuals out  _without_  catching the attention of the authorities. Now Olaf already  **knows**  that he’s the best, considering he’d literally been  _trained_  on this subject through V.F.D., but it’s certainly humorous to sit back and watch his accomplices argue about it.

“I would burn the body!” one of the white-faced women announces, as if she’s proud of herself.

“I would make it seem like a suicide!” the twin butts in. During this, the person of indeterminate gender simply sits there,  _unfazed_ , staring blankly ahead.

“I think this discussion is one that brings out the true morals within an individual, whether they would have no remorse in the murder of—”

But they’re interrupted as Fernald —  _another_  man who had once been a member of V.F.D. — voices his opinion, raising his hooks proudly. “I’d slit their throat, and make it seem like an accident because of these things!”

“No no, you need to snap their neck,” the bald man shouts, and that’s enough to send everyone into  _ **chaos**_ , arguments overlapping each other.

The count can’t help but  _chuckle_  at the display, leaning back in his armchair as they fight. They may be immature at times, but sometimes it’s their pure immaturity that makes them a joy to be around — after all, it isn’t as if he can defend himself for being any better anyway. He’s just about to calm them down, when the familiar voice of a  _young boy_  startles everyone.

“You’re all wrong.” Klaus Baudelaire appears in the doorway, eyes glued to the book in his hand. Olaf would chastise him for being awake at this hour, tell him to go to bed, but the boy  _continues_. “The best way is to inject a syringe full of air between someone’s toes. It makes their death look like a heart attack.”

The bespectacled Baudelaire sits himself down in one of the rocking chairs in the room, opening the novel he’s holding and starting to read. He doesn’t seem to  **realize**  that he’s left the roof completely  _stunned_ , especially  _Olaf_. The same question burns through everyone’s minds:  _how does a child of his age know that?_

Olaf blinks, mouth opening, closing. “H-How do you—”

“Books,” Klaus explains, simply, holding up the one in his hand. “You should read more. There’s a  _lot_  of interesting information in them.”

A feeling of  **dread**  settles within Olaf, and he stands, excusing himself as he approaches Klaus. He helps the young man to bed (he’d apparently had a nightmare, and had been listening to the entire debate),  _not_  mentioning the very strange and off-putting event that had just transpired.

How glad Olaf is that Klaus won’t be a part of V.F.D., for the idea of them having a member like  _him_  on their side would no doubt  **corrupt**  the boy. He would be  _dangerous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn klaus is S A V A G E


	14. xiv. Kit/Olaf - Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> madlovve asked: If you are taking requests for drabbles, I request one where Kit gets to see this tattoo the Olaf has of her name, or maybe even one where she is with him when he gets it? Just something fluffy, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place pre-canon, based on a headcanon from the recent installment of the fortunate!au. some sensuality, nothing too graphic.

Words cannot  _describe_ the feelings, the pure raw emotions that Olaf is experiencing at this very moment in time. The young man feels as if he could take on the world, as if he could jump up high into the clouds! He’s elated, excited, happy, overjoyed! His heart is fluttering in his chest, the wide smile on his face starting to cause his cheeks to hurt, but he  **doesn’t _care_** _ **!**_

Olaf had just gotten a  _very_ special present for his  **beloved** , in celebration of their anniversary, and just the thought of her reaction, the  _expression_ on her face when she _sees_ it? The ginger bounces like a child in the driver’s seat of his car!

Now obviously, he’ll have to contain himself before walking into the house. Once he’s parked in the driveway of the Snicket household, he forces himself to take deep breaths before opening the door, stepping outside and taking in the fresh, autumn air. His one hand,  _trembling_ , is stuffed into his pocket, his other grasping a bouquet of forget-me-nots: his lover’s  **favorite** flower. Olaf observes himself in the rear view mirror, making slight adjustments to his suit as he sees fit, observing how  _sharp_ his appearance is.

The actor can’t help but wink at himself.  _Instant lady killer_.

Shaking all of his nerves out, Olaf walks  _ ~~runs~~_  up to the front porch, rocking himself back and forth on his heels and the balls of his feet. Why is he suddenly so  _nervous_? It’s embarrassing. He feels like a young kid again, when he’d “met” Kit for the first time.

 _(More so that he saw her. She’d tried to initiate a conversation with him, but he’d been so flustered that he ran into the bathroom, banging his forehead against the stall door. She was_ so  _pretty.)_

 _Come on, idiot, just knock!_ his brain— no, his  **entire body** screams at him. His hand wraps tighter around the bouquet in his hand, all sounds around him muffled by the heartbeat raging in his ears. Raising his unoccupied hand to the door, Olaf makes a fist and knocks, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times.

There is no immediate response, and Olaf nearly abandons the plan, sure that this idea had really been a waste of time. Before any plan can be put into place, however, there’s the familiar click of a door unlocking. His eyes widen as it opens, for standing in the doorway, wearing a beautiful red dress that accents her body  _perfectly_ , is  **Kit Snicket**.

“ _Wow_ …” The word escapes Olaf without him truly intending it, the flush on her cheeks and beautiful smile making him  **lightheaded**. “Look at you.”

She giggles, making his heart skip a beat, and she reaches her arm out and  _tugs_ at the lapels of his suit. “Look at  _you_. Handsome and  **sexy** as ever.”

A cocky grin spreads across Olaf’s face, and he  _winks_ at her. “I dress to impress,  **Miss Snicket**.”

Kit winks back as she steps aside, letting her boyfriend inside her home. It seems as if Olaf isn’t the only one who had made an attempt to set the mood: there are lit candles and rose petals  **scattered** throughout the family and dining room, something straight out of a cheesy romance novel. Still, the  _gesture_ is adorable, and Olaf can’t help but admire the work his little fox had put into setting the mood.

The night is only made  _better_ when a familiar smell hits his nostrils, causing him to inhale sharply.

“ _ **You made roast beef**_ ** _?_** ” he asks incredulously. He’s well aware that Kit is a  _fantastic_ cook, but never before has she attempted this meal.

It hadn’t been easy to cook, though. Kit knew how much he loved roast beef, and having already failed in her first attempt, she forced her older brother to help her. It had been a long, painstaking process. But seeing the pure joy that lights up in Olaf’s face at the result? It’s  _so_ worth it.

“Anything for you,  **O** ,” she hums as she, for lack of a better term,  _saunters_ over to him. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips for a moment — the heels she’s wearing aiding her  _significantly_ — before her gaze falls to the flowers he’s holding. Now it’s her turn to be pleasantly surprised, and Olaf  **knows** he’ll have to commit her genuine excitement to memory. “ _Forget-me-nots_?“

“Your favorite,” he replies with a chuckle as she essentially yanks the flowers from his hand. Bending down, he kisses the top of her head, thumb stroking her cheek. “Happy anniversary,  _little fox_.”

Her cheeks flush a deeper red, and she pecks at his nose before he can stand straight up. “Happy anniversary,  _O_.”

The next half hour is full of  _laughter_ and  _domestic bliss_ as the couple eat their meal. Olaf tries to be humorous as he plays around with utensils, but the moment he nicks his finger with the knife, Kit has to  _force_ him to put it down. He’s still able to make her laugh, despite her mouth being full of food, as he rambles on about her siblings and their idiotic nature. The topic of  **Esmé** comes up in conversation as well, and Kit nearly chokes when he tells her some secrets about what the blonde liked to do in bed. The sexual innuendo that follows, made by Kit,  _quite literally_ causes Olaf to topple off of his chair in a laughing fit.

Once the couple are stuffed to the brim, they make their way up the stairs, unable to keep their hands off of each other, groping, kissing, and giggling like  _hormonal_ teenagers. Olaf’s fingers tangle in her hair, tugging strands out of her bun as he kisses her neck. She  **gasps** , and the couple stumble into the bedroom, holding onto one another, desperate. When they make it to the edge of the bed, Kit lets herself sit down, working at the buttons of his shirt. Her hands press against the  _exposed_ skin and—

 _She sees it_. Her  _name_ , in  **elegant** ,  _cursive writing_  across his chest.

𝓚𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮

Olaf waits with bated breath, hoping that she likes it, that she won’t scold him for using her full name. She does indeed respond in a way he hadn’t expected, but that is not entirely negative:  _she starts to cry._

“ _Kit_ …?” His voice is filled with concern, but she just shakes her head, gesturing to her gown.

“T-Take it  _off_ …” she begs, desperate, biting her bottom lip. “ ** _Please_**.”

He nods, unable to form words as he slips off her dress and drops it to the floor. She isn’t wearing a bra —  _little minx_ — but that’s not why she’d wanted him to undress her. For just above her sternum is a word in the same calligraphy as his own tattoo, and suddenly tears well his own eyes as well.

𝓞𝓵𝓪𝓯

“K- _Kit_ …” His arms wrap around her, and he places a kiss over his name, just as she places a kiss over his. “ ** _Katherine_** …”

Hearing her full name on his lips causes her heart to swell, and their mouths connect in a  _passionate_ kiss.

The pair thus  **make love** that night, in the  _truest_ sense of the word, for they leave their  _mark_ on one another, joining one another not only as lovers, but as  _soulmates_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	15. xv. Fernald + Olaf — Nightmares, Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: “Go back to sleep” Olaf and Fernald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some sad angst with a pining fernald, takes place right before the baudelaire fire.

**_Fire_**. That’s all Olaf ever dreams about anymore. Every time he closes his eyes, curls up in the sheets of his bed, tries to have a peaceful night’s sleep, he _can’t_.

Every nightmare is almost exactly the name. One moment, he’ll drift off into slumber and see images of his parents, smiling — wearing the _same exact attire_ they’d chosen when attending that **fateful** opera night — and the next, they’re _dead_. Flames consume all three of them, but for some reason, Olaf isn’t affected by it. He watches in horror as they scream in agony, being burnt alive, and he tries to reach them, he does all he can to save their lives, but something holds him back.

The last thing he sees are **Beatrice** and ~~_Kit_~~ , standing over the ashes of Olaf’s mother and father, sadistic grins on their faces.

Nearly every night, he wakes up in cold sweat with a scream, jolting upright in bed, his eyes wide. That is no exception in this moment, as his hands clutch onto his blankets, holding them close to his chest. It takes a minute for him to fully register where he is, that what had happened was nothing but an awful dream, and even then it doesn’t improve his mood. Once again, he’s faced with the realization that he’s stuck here, in a dilapidated house that he never takes care of anymore, his parents are dead, and that he’s isolated himself from anyone who ever even remotely cared about him.

Olaf knows what he needs to do: _get drunk_. Forget it _**all**_.

He reaches over to the side of the bed, picking up a bottle of wine. But, to his disappointment, it’s _empty_. Growling, he tosses it to the floor, flinching as it shatters, mentally reminding himself to have his he henchpeople clean that up later. Right now, he needs alcohol in his system to help him _forget everything_.

Fortunately, his most **loyal** henchman, Fernald, must have heard the sound of glass breaking, for in a matter of minutes after the incident occurs, the hook-handed man is turning the knob and pushing the door open. Olaf lifts his head to see the familiar face, but then his gaze falls to the item in his henchman’s hand (well, _hook_ , rather): **whiskey**.

“You okay, Boss?” Fernald’s tone is laced with worry as he approaches the bed. “I heard a noise and figured you had another nightmare. I brought this, so I hope it’ll _help_ —”

“ _Yes_ , it would help **_greatly_** ,” Olaf grits out, snatching the drink from Fernald and unscrewing the cap, tipping his head back as he gulps a good amount down.

The **burning** in the back of his throat is a sensation he’s used to and greatly _welcomes_ , for already he can feel the warmth blooming his chest, the dulling of his senses. How blissful.

Fernald watches awkwardly, wishing he could do something, anything to help. It’s not _healthy_ for him to do this. To drink so much, to never get a good night’s sleep. But would Olaf ever **listen** to him? It’s an incredibly slim chance. Fernald wouldn’t be surprised if his boss would just call him an “ _idiot_ ” and other obscenities. He’s used to it now, the **entire** troupe is.

_But how it still hurts him to hear that from the man he deeply cares for._

As Olaf finally pulls the whiskey bottle away from his mouth, eyelids slipping shut in what can only be described as relief, Fernald reaches out one of his hooks and pats his boss on the shoulder. Thankfully, the gesture doesn’t cause Olaf to **lash out** , merely _flinch_ for a moment. It seems as if he’s too tired to care.

**“Go back to sleep,”** Fernald tells him, as if he were a stern father, giving Olaf one more _pat_ before backing up and turning around. He hears Olaf merely growl in response, **yelling** at him, his speech slurred, but Fernald _ignores_ him.

One day, he’ll stop caring about him, stop loving him. He knows it’s wrong to do so — the man has _no positive qualities_ , there is no reason for him to feel the way he feels. But today isn’t one of this days. Today, his heart ~~_aches_~~ as he walks away from Olaf’s room, as the knowledge sinks in that his boss will _never return his **love**_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :((((


	16. xvi. Sunny + Olaf — Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Olaf and any of the Baudelaires “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pure fluff with olaf and sunny in the fortunate!au :3

There’s no doubt about it: Count Olaf absolutely _adores_ Sunny Baudelaire.

At first, when the Baudelaires first stepped foot into his home, he’d been **disgusted**. Ever since he’d broken off his engagement with the love of his life, his fondness for children had faded away, and his mind hadn’t changed the moment he set his eyes on those children. Beatrice’s children.

But _now_? Now he’s more than warmed up to the orphans, he’s truly become their **guardian**. He never thought he’d love any of them as much as he does now, but especially not the little one. How babies used to disgust him, with their _slobbering_ , _crying_ , _whining_ , and constant _vomiting_. Perhaps **Sunny** really had been the baby to change all of those opinions.

Olaf sits with Sunny on his lap as they relax, _bouncing_ her on his knee as they watch the snow fall from outside his window. Winter had arrived early this year, and it did not fail in bringing snow. There must be two to four inches already built up outside, and it’s **still** snowing! It seems as if Olaf isn’t the only one amazed by the spectacle, as Sunny points to the window, her tiny hands _grabbing_ at the air.

Picking the up the small human, the count brings her to the window, where she presses both hands against the glass. She exclaims “ _Wons_!” which translates to something along the lines of, “It’s so pretty, _I want to play in the snow_!”

Olaf chuckles. “You really wanna play out there in the freezing cold, huh, _short stuff_?”

Sunny nods, clapping her hands together, squeezing her fingers around his nose. “ _Wohadoo_ ,” she babbles, which most likely means, “I’ll **bite your nose** off if you don’t let me.”

“Alright, alright, you _big baby_ ,” he teases, prompting her to stick her tongue out at him, blowing raspberries. Olaf just shakes his head and sets her down carefully on the floor.

Approaching the coat hanger, he pulls off his long, fur coat, one that he almost always wears in the cold, what with how thin he is. Any weather below 30 degrees Fahrenheit has him a _shivering mess_.

“ _Here_ ,” he says, draping the coat over baby as she stumbles over to him, slipping her little arms through the sleeves. **“Take my coat. It’s cold outside.”**

Sunny raises her arms, the sleeves falling far past her hands, and _giggles_. The sound absolutely warms Olaf’s heart, and he can’t help but join her as they head outside. He’s truly grateful to have this little **ball of sunshine** in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he loves her in this au :’’’) cryin in the club


End file.
